


And the Music Plays On

by burnbabyburn



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 10:23:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5124077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burnbabyburn/pseuds/burnbabyburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Bucky's death, Peggy helps Steve find a small level of comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And the Music Plays On

The bombs had come days ago, and yet she could still smell the acrid smoke in the air; taste the bitter residue of the gunshots; see the spatters of blood on the pavement, the rubble and the broken glass. It was silent, except for the crackles of dust and plaster under her feet as she picked her way carefully across the street to what remained of the bar. Only a few days ago this place had glowed with warmth, rare comfort and possibility – the shell that barely stood in front of her now was utterly barren. She sighed, and tried not to wonder how much longer she would have to witness scenes like this; how long it would be until she got to dance.

A faint whisper of music crept through the stillness, and as she peered through into the back room of the bar, she could make out a shape, sitting at a chair and table that seemed too small for him. But then, so much seemed too small for him now; Peggy allowed herself a small, tiny smile at that irony, and made her way slowly towards him.

Steve looked round at her footsteps, but did not smile as he usually did – she had not expected him too. Although she struggled to get used to his new shape and size, he appeared diminished somehow; crumpled. He sniffed quietly and poured himself another scotch.  
“Doctor Erskine said that... the serum wouldn't just affect my muscles. It would affect my cells. Create a protective system, of regeneration and healing,” he muttered, gazing at the glass in front of him, and then the bottle that was half empty. “Which means, um... I can't get drunk.”  
He sighed heavily, and only then looked up at her, almost blankly. Unlike him. “Did you know?”  
Bending to pick up an upturned chair, she dragged it across to the table, its small, round top covered in a fine layer of dust and plaster.  
“Your metabolism burns four times faster than the average person,” she answered, trying not to focus too much on Dr Erskine, on any of the losses. “He thought it could be one of the side effects.”  
Steven continued to look at his glass, brow furrowed, oddly still.  
“It wasn't your fault,” she said quietly, firmly. She wanted to reach to him, but something in her stomach, a twist, stopped her.  
“Did you read the report?” he asked, shoulders drooping ever-so-slightly further.  
“Yes.”  
“Well, then you know that's not true.”  
She couldn’t stand how certain he seemed – how sad, and how certain, and how lost.  
“You did everything you could,” she said, trying to gain eye contact. Eventually he looked up, and his eyes softened slightly at hers.  
“Did you believe in your friend? Did you respect him?” she asked.  
Steve did not respond, but looked down again. She took this as confirmation, although none was needed – she knew how he had felt about Bucky, knew after only the second or third story about “my friend Bucky, he’s the brave one; out there already.” She needed to be firm now.  
“Then stop blaming yourself. And allow him the dignity of his choice. He damn well must have thought you were worth it,” she said, leaning forward slightly.  
Still he gazed at the glass. Still he looked lost. Lonely.  
“I'm going after Schmidt. I'm not going to stop 'til all of Hydra is dead, or captured.”  
It frightened her a little, to hear him speak this way. He had never enjoyed that side of this, even in the past few months fighting alongside his own team. She reached forward, slowly, carefully, and placed her hand over his.  
“You won't be alone.”

At this he looked up, met her eyes, but did not smile. Instead, he leaned forward and before she could register, he kissed her on the mouth, hard, deliberate, as if he had suddenly made a bet with himself that he wouldn’t back out; that he could do this, at least. She leaned back slightly, surprised, but only briefly, then forward again, and ran her hand up to his face – the stubble on his chin was rough; she knew he had not shaved for a couple of days, an indication of his state of mind. She heard the glass set heavily on the table, and the hand that was not under hers on the table grasped the back of her head, gripping her hair, as the kiss deepened. Peggy could feel her breath become heavier, and she too clutched his hair, feeling it oddly soft between her fingers. She heard a soft moan above the music from the radio, and it was only a few second later that she realized it had come from her. At this, Steve pulled back, eyes hooded, and looked at her, then down.  
“I’m… I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have –“  
He didn’t finish as she leaned into him and kissed him again, hands on his neck, his shoulders, his arms, his chest. He grasped her waist tightly, pulling her and the chair to him sharply, but still not close enough. Clumsily, they both stood, both panting, both moaning, and he stepped her backwards to the one wall that wasn’t crumbling around them. She felt the cool brick against her back, even through her jacket, and then more as she tore the jacket off. She scrambled for the buttons on his uniform, fingers trembling as she undid them. His hands, too, shook as he cupped her face then ran his palms down her chest and stomach to her thighs. He pushed her deeper, harder into the wall, her legs parting slightly, hips rolling into him, feeling how hard he was, and they both gasped quietly.  
“Peggy,” he muttered between kisses, moaning deeply as she ran her tongue softly over his bottom lip. “Peggy, are you-“  
“Yes. Yes,” she breathed, sweeping her blouse out of her skirt and over her head and shoulders, and reaching for his belt. 

His hands, palms smooth, with callused fingertips, began to draw her skirt up her legs and thighs, reaching gently, tentatively underneath. She broke their kissing and fixed him with a steady gaze. Steve breathed heavily, a tiny line of sweat visible above his ramshackle collar, and looked at her quizzically. Keeping eye contact, she drew her knickers down her legs, kicking them off to the side gracefully over her shoes. She took his hands and placed them back on her bare upper thighs, her eyes closing briefly at the pleasure of feeling him touch her. For his part, he groaned softly, his eyes fluttering shut as she reached inside his trousers. She stroked him once, twice, and on the third his eyes snapped open, and he spread her legs, lifting her up easily – so easily - and wrapped her legs around his waist. Reaching between them, he brushed against her, moaning as he felt how wet she was, and then positioned himself. She kissed him hard, and when he pushed inside her she bit his lip to stifle her cries of pain, and pleasure, and utter, utter joy.  
“Fuck…Fuck…” he moaned in her ear, and a thought struck her, then drifted off in the sound of her own heartbeat, that he must be enjoying it if he was swearing.  
“Steve, please…” she moaned in his ear, and he started to move into her, slowly at first. In, and out. In, and out. She thought she would weep from how good it felt. In, and out. She dug her nails into the back of his neck slightly as he moved deeper, and he began to speed up, thrusting into her harder, faster, with more passion than she though possible.  
“Jesus Christ, Steve-“ he silenced her with a hard kiss, then leaned his forehead against hers, moaning and panting together as he fucked her into the wall, the scent of whisky still lingering on his breath. More and more he pushed into her, and more and more she welcomed it, tilting her hips to meet his. The picture frame next to them rattled somewhat, and she felt oddly delighted at the sound of his skin slapping against hers. She felt a heat begin to build, her moans louder, her gasps coming faster, and as she tried to kiss him she immediately had to tear away as her head snapped back with a guttural moan.  
“Oh god, oh god, Peggy, Peggy…” he panted as she came, and just as she felt it begin to subside she felt him grown even harder inside her and then cry into her neck savagely. A few more juddering thrusts and he stopped. Their breathing was still hard as he softly lowered her feet to the floor, and kissed her fully on the mouth. Slow, and lingering. They were still.

The radio continued to play.


End file.
